The Vacant Throne

by Joshua Palmatier

  “No. The merchants’ guild is free of the palace. But I do intend to keep the warehouse and kitchen running on the Dredge. They need it.”

  Regin raised an eyebrow but said nothing except, “Mistress.”

  He gave a slight but respectful bow, then moved off, a few waiting apprentices and personal bodyguards closing in around him as he merged with the crowd on the docks. My own escort moved in closer, Keven coming up to my side.

  “Good news?”

  “More or less. Trading ships should be ready to leave by the end of the week.”

  “Then might I make a suggestion?”

  I turned to him, somewhat surprised. “What?”

  He motioned to the people milling around us. “We just barely survived a harsh winter, were attacked by an invading force, and we’ve done nothing since but clean up, repair, burn the dead, and drill the citizens in case of another attack. Can’t you feel the tension?”

  I frowned, and for the first time took note of the faces of everyone around us, of their haggard appearance, the set of their shoulders. As if at any moment they expected the facade of normality to cave in, revealing a horde of Chorl behind it.

  And if I slid beneath the river, I could feel it as well, a trembling beneath the calmness of activity. The citizens of Amenkor were holding together through sheer movement, keeping themselves busy so that they didn’t have to think, to feel.

  “We need something to celebrate besides mere survival from the attack,” Keven said.

  “Such as?”

  “A festival to celebrate the launch of the first trading ships, perhaps? It doesn’t have to be a huge event, but . . .”

  I gave him a narrowed look of doubt. “I suppose we could spare a little extra food for a festival.”

  Keven grinned. “I’ll let Avrell know immediately.”

  Behind Keven, I saw the crowd part, Captain Catrell moving forward, trailing an escort of his own, including Darryn. Catrell was dressed in the full armor of the palace, having been promoted, taking the place of Baill as the head of the palace guardsmen. He was a short man, Darryn at least a foot taller, and carried himself with a sense of serious reserve.

  Darryn was dressed like any other denizen of the Dredge, except that beneath his somewhat used and frayed clothing he wore leather armor and carried a sword. He’d been offered Catrell’s old position as captain of the regular guard, but had turned it down and remained captain of the militia instead, insisting that he’d be more useful on the Dredge . . . and that full armor would only isolate him from the people. Since he was training them to defend themselves from another Chorl attack, no one had argued with him. He came forward a step behind Catrell, a smirk on his face.

  “Mistress,” he said, half mockingly, bending at the knee with an exaggerated bow.

  Catrell gave him a sidelong frown, then nodded himself. “Mistress.”

  “Captain. Lord of the Dredge.”

  Darryn snorted. “At your service, of course.”

  I signaled Keven, the escort shifting position to open up a path through the crowd as I led Catrell and Darryn down the wharf toward the southern jut of land that protected the harbor. The two captains fell into step to either side, their own entourage melding with mine.

  “I wanted to discuss Amenkor,” I began, and both Darryn and Catrell became instantly intent. “In particular, what more we need to do to defend it against another attack. I know that you’re training anyone with a will in the marketplace so that the citizens can defend themselves if necessary, Darryn, and that you’re also training the more formalized militia, but there has to be something more substantial that can be done.”

  Catrell frowned. “You’re certain that the Chorl will return?”

  “They’ll return. If not here at Amenkor, then somewhere else on the Frigean coast. Marlett, Temall, Venitte—any of the southern cities are under the Chorl threat. Merrell to the north as well, to a lesser extent. The Chorl will be desperate. Their homeland has been destroyed, and there are too many of them to remain on the Boreaite Isles for long.”

  “So what can we do?” Darryn asked.

  We’d reached the end of the wharf, were passing now through the trailing edge of the warehouse district, coming up on the wall that branched out from the inner walls of the city and ran down the full length of the narrow strip of land that struck out into the water. The crowd had fallen behind, most of the city’s activity centered on the wharf and the ships there. I stared up at the wall. Here, it was barely twice my height, its main purpose to keep an eye on whatever ships might be approaching the city from the ocean on the far side.

  “We need to warn the coast, the southern cities especially,” Catrell said, angling along the wall to where a small gate allowed access to the heights.

  I nodded. “Avrell has already sent dispatches overland, since no ships have ventured out of Amenkor since the attack.”

  “But it could take weeks for them to arrive,” Darryn protested. “By then, the Chorl may have already struck somewhere else.”

  “I know. It’s the best we can do at the moment.”

  Both Darryn and Catrell mulled this over as we climbed the stairs to the top of the wall, emerging into a stiff breeze from the ocean. Patrols ran in regular intervals along the wall, the guardsmen taking a moment to acknowledge our little group as we passed before turning back to their scrutiny of the ocean and the search for sails and the possibility of the Chorl’s return. We were headed toward the remains of the watchtower at the end of the jut. I wanted to see the damage. Before the attack, I’d ventured out onto this wall only once. It had been at the limits of the throne’s influence, and had been extremely uncomfortable, like knives digging into my gut, so I hadn’t returned.

  But now that the throne was dead . . .

  I shoved the thought aside.

  “What do you have in place right now?”

  Catrell drew in a breath, then exhaled as he shook his head. “The losses from the attack, and those guardsmen that disappeared along with Baill, were significant. But I’ve set up watches along both walls in case the Chorl decide to return. Since the watchtowers were destroyed in the battle, I’ve set up warning bells down the lengths of both walls as well. If any foreign sails appear, they give warning to the city, with a second set of signals once the danger of the ship has been established. Darryn has been drilling the citizens on what each signal means, and what they should do in the event that a ship does approach. Most will head to the walls and the palace, although anyone with training or who can pick up a weapon is supposed to help defend the harbor.”

  “That covers the ocean approach,” Darryn cut in abruptly. “What about to the east? An attack from land?”

  Catrell grimaced. “That’s harder to defend. Aside from the walls surrounding the palace, there are no defenses to the east. We haven’t needed them. The eastern portion of the city—the stockyards, the tanneries—”

  “The Dredge,” Darryn added sharply.

  Catrell nodded in agreement. “—they’re all exposed. Along with all of the fields and farms, of course. I’ve set up scouting patrols along both the northern and southern roads, a few along the eastern route as well. The southern approach is the most easily defended, since the terrain is such that they’d have to climb a cliff to reach the edge of the palace in that direction. But the northern and eastern routes . . .” He shrugged.

  “The good news is that most of the citizens of Amenkor have moved inside the walls of the palace or into the outskirts of the slums along the River,” Darryn said into the silence. “With the lower city between the wharf and the palace mostly destroyed, they’ve had to find somewhere else to go. A significant portion of them should be protected by the walls if someone does attack by land, and with enough warning, those on the Dredge should be able to make it to the walls in time. There’s not much we can do about the outlying farmland. All of that is at risk.”

  “Haven’t the patrols here and on the roads stretched the guardsmen th
in?” I asked.

  “Yes. But since the battle we’ve had a significant surge in men and women interested in the militia.”

  Darryn nodded. “Many of those come from the Dredge. They may not be skilled with a sword, but they make up for it with nastiness and determination.” A tight, proud smirk lit Darryn’s face.

  “Many of those who joined the militia before the attack have been shifted to the regular guard to fill the gaps, since they had some minimal training already. The rest have already started training under Darryn and his men.” Catrell shrugged. “There’s not much more that can be done.”

  We’d reached the end of the jut and halted, were now staring down at the remains of the watchtower. The wall, slightly shorter here than in the city, abruptly ended, stone jagged at the edge where it dropped down into a shallow hole. To the right, waves crashed onto the natural stone of the jut, slapping into rock with a hollow booming sound, spray hissing upward, errant wind blowing it into our faces occasionally, my hair flying about my face. I licked my lips, tasted salt and sand.

  Three weeks before, there had been a tower here. A short tower, only two levels, but enough to give the guardsmen a greater view of the ocean.

  Now, there was nothing but a crater littered with shattered stone and twisted wooden beams. One wall of the tower had slid to the side, a fan of stone tumbling down to the greedy ocean below.

  I felt again the surge of power that had wrought such destruction. Felt it like a thud to my chest. Slipping beneath the river, I could still sense the disturbance in the eddies and flows around me.

  Without releasing the river, I turned away from the debris, away from the ocean and the wide open threat that it represented, and looked to the city. I could see the masts of the ships at the docks, could make out movement along the wharf, even though we were too distant for me to pick out individual people. Skiffs darted back and forth across the bay, and other fishing boats bobbed on the waves closer to the tower, men leaning over the edge to haul up traps from the harbor’s bottom. And beyond, rising up from the water’s edge and outward from the River’s mouth, buildings and streets, a charred husk just above the wharf where the Chorl had landed, the palace to the south, the Dredge to the north.

  I watched the activity near the wharf for a long moment, noted the empty berths at the docks.

  “No,” I said finally. “There is something else that can be done.”

  Both Darryn and Catrell frowned.

  “What?” Darryn asked.

  I motioned to the harbor, to the city beyond. “We can build another wall.”

  “It will bankrupt us,” Avrell said.

  “What, the festival? It’s a little too late for that. It’s already started.”

  Avrell clenched his jaw and visibly controlled himself. “No, not the festival. Building the wall.”

  I paused in my preparations to frown at him. We were waiting in the antechamber to my bedroom, Avrell seated while I tucked the folds of my shirt into my breeches. Isaiah had removed the bandage keeping Avrell’s arm immobile a few days before, declaring his shoulder healed. “What do you mean? Just build it. We have stone available in the quarry to the north, wood in the forests to the east. We have plenty of laborers in the city; just recruit people from the Dredge. The carpenters and engineers are practically begging to get started.”

  “Yes, but all of that requires money. Money that we don’t currently have. Or at least, don’t have enough of. We used a significant portion to gather enough food to get us through the winter. We have enough to continue paying the wages of the servants and guardsmen and to keep the palace running at a nominal level, but that’s it. Spending our resources on the labor necessary to build the wall is out of the question, unless you have a cache of buried gold hidden somewhere in the slums that you haven’t told me about.”

  I shot him a withering glare. “We need that wall. The Chorl attacked by sea the last time, because that’s what they were used to. According to Catrell and Darryn, our most significant weakness at the moment is the unprotected parts of the city to the east, including the stockyards and the Dredge. We need some type of defense for that portion of the city. We can’t rely on the Chorl giving us enough of an advance warning to get all of the people in those areas into the walls of the palace!”

  “Then you’ll have to figure out a way to fund their construction.”

  Before I could form a scathing reply, a knock came at the door, which opened a moment later to reveal one of the Seekers set to guard my chambers. “Marielle is here to help with your preparations, Mistress.”

  “I’m already done,” I said.

  Avrell’s eyes shot wide open, and from behind the Seeker I heard Marielle say, “What?” She shoved past the bemused Seeker, who quietly shut the door behind her. Her gaze raked over my crisp white shirt and tan breeches, my boots, the dagger at my belt. She wore a pale green dress, tied at the waist with a swath of trailing blue cloth. “You can’t possibly be thinking of wearing that to the festival.”

  I frowned in confusion. “This is what I always wear.”

  “Exactly.”

  Marielle stalked across the antechamber into the inner room, moving swiftly toward the wardrobe. “You must have something in here suitable to wear to this event.”

  I cast a surprised look at Avrell, whose face was now suspiciously neutral. “Like what?”

  “Like a dress!”

  A knot of horror clenched in my gut, all thought of the problem of the wall forgotten. I followed Marielle into my chambers, Avrell a step behind me. “I don’t have a dress. I don’t wear dresses. I don’t like dresses.”

  Marielle pulled back out of the wardrobe, a thin sleeping shift held up before her. She tossed it to the floor in disgust, then saw Avrell. “Eryn,” she said.

  Avrell seemed to understand. With a quick nod, he vanished through the door. I heard the outer door open and close, followed by footsteps moving fast. Not at a run, but close.

  I caught Marielle’s gaze, held it, my face set in the sternest frown I could manage. “I don’t wear dresses,” I said, my voice hard, edged with the deadly intent most people identified with the Seekers. “I’m the Mistress.”

  Half an hour later, Eryn stepped back from straightening the folds of one of my sleeves and said, “There. What do you think?”

  Marielle gave me a penetrating look. “It will have to do. We’re already late. If we don’t leave now, the ships will have to launch without us there to see them off or they’ll miss the tide.”

  I stood stiffly, the dress feeling awkward against my skin. What skin it covered. Yellow, embroidered at the edges as almost all of Eryn’s dresses were, it hung down to my ankles and was fitted at the waist, two servants having hastily measured, pinned, and stitched it to the right size. The sleeves were loose, the shoulders a little poofed, the neckline square. I could feel the air against my skin across my chest and shoulders. And my feet. Instead of boots or shoes, they’d forced me into some kind of sandal, but with many more straps.

  The only concession they’d made was my dagger. Strapped to my forearm within easy reach, in a leather sheath Westen, captain of the Seekers, had given me, its weight was comforting.

  I glared at the two through narrowed eyes and lowered my arms, breathing in the heady perfume they’d applied. “Are we finished?”

  Eryn smiled, smoothing the creases of her own white dress. “I think so.”

  They herded me out into the antechamber, where Keven, Avrell, Nathem, and Westen waited. Catrell, Darryn, and Regin were already down at the wharf seeing to the last minute details of the three trading ships and their escorts.

  Avrell drew in a sharp breath, began to say, “You look completely diff—” but then caught Eryn’s eye and halted. Keven looked slightly stunned and confused, as if he didn’t recognize me. Westen’s only reaction was a raised eyebrow. They were all dressed formally—the guardsmen in maroon uniforms with glints of armor showing here and there; Avrell and Nathem in the deep
-blue-and-gold robes of the palace.

  “Let’s go,” I said curtly, not willing to acknowledge the nervous sweat that suddenly prickled the palms of my hands and back of my neck.

  An escort of no less than twenty guards on horseback led the three carriages down through the cleared streets of Amenkor. It was the first time I’d ridden in a carriage, but the dress made it impossible to ride a horse as I usually did when moving through the city. I found it . . . bruising, the cobbles of the street rough, and remembered my first sight of a carriage, after killing Bloodmark and fleeing the slums, crossing the River to the lower city. I’d thought it strange, a room on wheels, so far removed from anything I’d experienced on the Dredge that I’d hidden deeper in the familiar territory of the alley until it had passed.

  Now, I stared out of the small rectangular window and watched the alleys drift by. We passed through the wards, the broken walls, just now beginning to see signs of repair, glowing in the late afternoon sunlight. A few people still remained in the upper city, most obviously heading down toward the wharf and the festival. The windows and doorways of the buildings we passed were decorated with garlands of grass or boughs of pine and aspen from the forests, tied with ribbons that fluttered in the light wind. Banners hung from poles erected at the corners of the streets, or jutted out from above shopkeepers’ doorways. The citizens of Amenkor had leaped at the news of the festival, decorations appearing within hours of the general announcement.

  Then we passed into the lower city. I turned away from the heaps of rubble and charred buildings with a grimace.

  “You saved the city.”

  I glanced up at Westen, seated across from me. He watched me intently, jostled by the rough ride. Keven and Marielle also rode with us, the others divided between the other two carriages. “Did I?”

  He smiled. “Yes. Don’t let anyone, including yourself, ever doubt that.”

  “But—”

  “No,” he said, cutting me off, shaking his head. “There is always a price—buildings, ships . . . lives. You can never escape that. You did what had to be done.”